Pretending
by FactofFiction
Summary: She could see the lights of Cairo out of her front window. One-shot. Tivali. In Egypt. Enough said.


She could see the lights of Cairo out of her front window.

At first, this was an interesting discovery. The apartment - rented under an alias and paid for upfront with a handful of diamonds - had been intentionally chosen for its location. Close to the city, sure, but certainly far enough to be forgotten. It was a fairly poor neighborhood. Every inch of the long windy streets was carved and molded into some form of home - often with one bedroom and 12 family members. It was a nameless apartment in a sea of nameless apartments and it was those indistinguishable waves of plaster and people that drew her here. Granted her sweet asylum.

Or _would have _granted her sweet asylum. If he hadn't tracked her down.

But she could see the lights of Cairo out of her front window, and in hindsight, that should have been her first sign to leave. But she hadn't left.

Maybe she wanted to be found.

"She out?"

Ziva's head snapped back into the room, taking in the soft glow of the lamp and the dull hum of the air conditioner before she finding him standing in the doorway wearing - of all things - an apron.

Then she looked down at her daughter, "Almost."

The little girl stirred as if aware they were talking about her. But then she slowed, curling her arms tighter around the stuffed dog beside her, and relaxed. Ziva continued her mindless scratching of slow circles into the fabric of Tali's pajamas. She hoped her presence could be felt even in her daughter's subconscious. She hoped it would linger there until this was all over.

Tony had disappeared back into the kitchen. Tali's breath was hot against Ziva's arm as she slowly slips into slumber. The lights in the distance piqued the Israeli's interest again.

When she finally pulled herself away from their lure, it was because of the wonderful aroma filling up the tiny apartment. It's been hours since she's eaten. Days since she's had a proper meal. She has to slide out from under the body of her daughter for fear that the guttural growl of her stomach would wake the girl up.

Tony was making dinner. And he was still wearing the stupid apron.

"Asleep now?" He asked as Ziva breezed into the kitchen.

"She's OK'd"

He hovered over the pan for a minute, looking at her under thick eyelashes as he held back a chuckle.

"What?"

"KO'd, Ziva. Not OK'd."

"Oh."

"You've regressed, I see," He returned to his cooking - she couldn't quite make out what was in the pan - and continued, "I guess that's to be expected, all things considered. But it is sad to see all my hard work has gone to waste."

She didn't know how to respond to that. So instead she lingered by the table.

"But, it's cool. We'll just have to get you back on track."

He offered so much in such a simple statement. And she wanted it. _Down to her very bones, she wanted it_. Time. Proximity. Togetherness. But she knew they weren't to that part yet.

"Tony, you can't-"

"Stay? I know," All of the sugary sweetness that he'd been lacing into his voice since the moment she opened the door was gone. For a split second, she thought they'd arrived at the yelling portion of their evening, but then he spoke again and it came out more tired than upset, "But it's nice to pretend. Just for a little while."

He flipped the food onto a plate and turned off the burner on the stove. The apron was removed and discarded on the counter (she suddenly realized that she didn't own an apron and had never seen that fabric before) just as he picked up the plate and came to sit at the table as well.

"Grilled cheese?" She asked once she'd gotten a good look at his creation - and a good whiff.

"DiNozzo's famous Grilled Cheese," he corrected with a tone so gentle and so strong, it only magnified her awareness that he is now a real father. To a toddler.

"So famous that I've never heard of it?" She watched as he gently cut the sandwich in half (diagonally of course) and motioned for her to take some.

"So famous that I never learned to make it out of fear I'd disgrace the name," The comment was shrugged off as he picked up the other half.

"But now you've learned?" If she was being honest, it looked pretty delicious. And smelled even better. But she still hesitated.

"Had good reason to," He gestured vaguely toward the living room, "Kid couldn't very well eat greasy pizza and Le Ming Chao for the rest of her life."

At the mention of their old favorite take-out joint, she ate. Perhaps to distract for the deep craving she felt for a carton of General Tso's that she could eat from the far side of his couch.

And okay, she'd admit - it was a damn good grilled cheese. Maybe the best she'd ever had.

Which must have shown on her face.

"I know, right?" He smiled at her before taking a big bite of his half, "Nona DiNozzo was a genius."

He was talking with his mouth full and spilling crumbs across the table. The wave of affection that came over her was surprising, but not entirely unwelcome. It felt good to admire him again. It felt familiar.

They ate in companionable silence until both parties - surprisingly full from their halves of the cheese, lettuce and tomato sandwich - leaned back in a casual stretch.

"I am impressed," She finally said, giving him an approving glance.

"Why thank you. It's taken some practice, but I'd say I've really mastered it at this point. Hell, the Munchkin and I have been on our own for, what, over a month now? We must have shared…" He squinted into the air above him as if completing some hard calculations, "A thousand of those? I mean, they're no organic baked yams, but they'll do in a pinch."

He delivered the last sentence like a joke, but she couldn't quite pick up on the reference.

Then he turned serious - "Look, I'm kidding. Tali's been good. She eats a well-balanced diet and sleeps 12 hours a day… Okay, 10 hours. But I'd say she'll get all 12 tonight."

There's a defensive edge in his voice and it makes her head spin a bit. He thought he had to explain himself to her? To justify himself?

"I am sure you take good care of her, Tony," She took a moment to cran her neck and check the girl in question was still laying on the couch, "I would not have sent her to you, otherwise."

It was supposed to be comforting. It was supposed to smooth things over.

Turns out, it was the exact wrong thing to say.

"Oh."

He stood, pushing in his chair, grabbing the plate and walking over to the sink before she even processed just how _harsh_ such a simple word felt.

This conversation was giving her whiplash, and she wasn't sure she had the strength to continue it tonight.

But then she remembered that there wouldn't really be a tomorrow. That they would have to leave too soon. So continue it she would.

"Oh? That's all you are going to say?"

He didn't even look up from his work washing the plate, "Well, what do you want me to say, Ziva? I just got airmailed a child, quit my job, spent weeks tracking diamond trades up and down the Mediterranean, packed up the kid and brought her to your doorstep, and now I'm figuring out that the only reason any of that happened, my only real _qualification_ here, seems to be that you knew I would take good care of her? To hell with being her father, am I right?"

_No_. That was not what she was _saying._

"Tony, I-"

"No, it's no problem. I should have seen it coming, really. I mean, my status as her biological parent hasn't carried any weight in the past, so why would it start mattering to you now? I only contributed 50% of her DNA, so really, who am I to talk? Right?"

"That isn't-"

"So, just out of curiosity, am I ever going to receive compensation for my little donation? Because, as you know, the old sperm bank used to-"

"Stop!" She felt herself yelling. Knew she was waking Tali. But she couldn't help it. His words were swarming her, swirling around her head and jabbing her in the ribs. She could feel them swelling and growing and multiplying until they consumed the space in the kitchen. Filled every square inch with their mass. Their weight. She tried to stand. They forced her down. She tried to breathe, they choked the air. She tried to speak and they wrapped themselves around her throat until her vision started going blurry, "Stop it! Stop!"

"Ziva?"

His voice was far away now. And it was soft. All melty and moldable with its concern and confusion. She tried to find it, to reach out for the sound of him saying her name. She pictured a life-preserver. Floating in the sea of words. Dangling right there at the surface. If she could just… reach...it…

"Ziva," She tried to wrap her hand around the words and the sounds but they slipped between her fingers and disappeared into the sea, "Hey, look at me."

His hand closed around her arm, but it's not her arm. Or - it's not her arm anymore. It's part of the sea. As far removed from her body as the feet she keeps tapping and the tongue she feels herself biting. Her body had dissolved, but it's still in one piece. In another scenario, she'd puzzle over the contradiction.

_Ima._

Tali's voice was in the sea - or in her head, which is in the sea - but she turned toward the living room anyway as if in response.

"Ziva, just look at me, okay. Focus on me."

At this point, Tony's voice was closer. Well, it felt closer. His touch felt closer, too.

"Tony…" She managed, reaching blindly into the sea and coming back with his hand in hers. He was there. If she could just hold on, maybe he'd pull her out.

"Hey there, Ninja. Welcome back."

The hand that was gently stroking her arm moved up to cup her face, brushing curls out of the way and briefly feeling her forehead to make sure she wasn't ill.

"I, um-" She started speaking in the haze and had to stop when it all came rushing at her.

They were in the kitchen. He was sitting in the seat beside her again. He'd pulled it closer so he could get a better look at her. He was stroking her face. And her hand. And he was looking at her with a complicated mix of fear and concern.

"Sorry," She mumbled once she has the clarity to pull her hand out of his.

"Don't…" His fingers stopped combing through her hair, but he did reach out to reclaim her hand, "Don't apologize."

She gave him a soft smile, "Sign of weakness?"

"No," He was always quick to correct her, "You just… have nothing to apologize for."

"That's not true. I've made many mistakes."

"I'll make you a deal. I'll forgive you for everything… If you promise to never scare me like that again."

She smiled at his offer, but shook her head anyway, "It is not that simple."

He sighed, "I know. We have a lot to talk about."

"We do. And, I cannot promise not to panic. I'm afraid it's out of my hands these days."

"You mean _that_…" He gestured vaguely to her body and they both understood what he meant, "Happens a lot?"

"Not a lot. But sometimes."

"Oh."

It was the same word as earlier. The same syllable. And yet, this time it was whispered with such care - reverence, even - as he let this new development sink in. There is no judgment on his face. No disappointment or condemnation. Not even pity. Just care. And perhaps a hint of something else.

"Tony…"

Before she could continue, both of their heads shot up at the sound of a dull thud out in the living room, followed by the grumpy cries of their two-year-old.

They found Tali sprawled on the floor beside the coffee table. A quick assessment of the scene garnered conclusive results. It seemed the young girl had woken up at some point (likely in the midst of the yelling and chaos) and successfully slid her way off the couch without incident. However, in all the sliding, she had managed to discard her beloved stuffed dog, who also found his way onto the floor. When she went to walk around the table, she stepped on the dog and fell down.

A quick assessment of the girl resulted in another conclusion: she was fine - aside from a small scrape on her knee, seemingly from the leg of the coffee table. The scrape displayed exactly three small drops of blood, but for all the screaming Tali was doing, you'd think she ripped the skin clean off the joint.

"Oh, come here Tali-Bear," Tony cooed as he scooped the girl up and settled her on his lap. "There are band-aids in her bag. Front pocket."

Ziva looked up at him from her spot still crouched on the floor where her daughter had been and laughed. Knowingly.

"What?"

"Nothing. It is just… you can try the band-aid. But she will just rip it off."

Tali's hatred of band-aids (and all things safe and sanitary, much to her mother's dismay) was a well-weathered joke amongst Ziva and her friends. The few select ones she'd ever let meet her daughter. No band-aid, no matter the strength, size, or colorful design, had survived much more than a minute on the child's skin.

"Nah. She'll keep it on."

Ziva sighed, standing up to go retrieve the band-aid (and bringing a second along for good measure). As she turned back toward them, she paused. Tali had buried her face in Tony's chest and was balling up his shirt in one angry fist. Her tears were soaking through the material and she was quite certain more than a few trace elements of snot were soaking through as well, but Tony didn't seem to mind. He was holding his daughter. Rocking her back and forth while humming some unfamiliar song.

She handed him the band-aid in silence. She had no words at the moment.

"Alright, TT Top," He carefully extracted her from his chest (and his shirt from her fist) before settling her down in a different position to tend to her wounds, "We'll get you bandaged up and then you'll be good to go. Maybe Ima has a real bed you can sleep on next?"

Ziva shrugged at him. She really didn't have a bed. A pack 'n play hadn't quite made it onto her bare necessities list. And the queen bed in the master seemed a little too open. The couch was probably their best bet.

Tali watched her father open, brandish, and apply the band-aid with mild interest. Then she looked up at him, rubbing one tired fist into her still watery eye.

"See? Tell Ima all you need is Aba to-"

Then, practically on cue, Tali reached down to her knee and grabbed the band-aid, crumbling it up in her little fist and tearing the material away from her cut. She looked at the band-aid, then at her father, then resumed her crying.

Tony shot Ziva a look. She just smiled. The 'I told you so' was implied.

"Alright… new plan," He gestured for Ziva to give him the second band-aid and then pointed into the kitchen, "Scissors."

She eyed him suspiciously, but slowly crept into the other room to retrieve the requested scissors.

"Why thanks, Sweetcheeks," Tony boasted when she handed them over. It was clearly a ploy to catch Tali's interest. And it certainly worked. She twisted around on her father's lap to get a better view as he slowly and carefully (with a considerable amount of grandeur to maintain his captive audience) cut the sizable band-aid into a cute little heart, just barely big enough to cover the full length of her scrape.

"Ta-da!" He held the heart out for Tali to inspect. She did so with great enthusiasm, "How's _that_ for a band-aid?"

Tali scrunched her face at the word - clearly, she had formed an association - but still seemed fascinated by the heart in his hand.

"Now, I should tell you, Tiny Ninja. This heart band-aid is special. It has magical healing properties. It's woven from the finest bamboo, encapsulating the very last of the old world…" He looked around the room, scrambling for some inspiration to fuel his elaborate story. He caught Ziva's eye and smirked. "Diamonds. Uncut. No serial numbers. Very rare, and very valuable."

Ziva laughed. The joke had been directed at her, as the whole story was. Tali wasn't following much more than his excited and conspiratorial tone. Her mischievous grin mirrored Tony's so perfectly, Ziva had to choke back a sob. How she'd dreamed of seeing the two of them interact like this. How she'd never let herself believe it would happen.

"You see, that's a whole lotta magic in there. And it can only be worn by the specialist of special little girls. Do you think you can handle it?"

He held the heart out and Tali look it in her little hands excitedly. She held it up toward the sky, then leaned forward to place it right over her skinned knee, as if asking Tony to put it _riiiight _there.

So he did.

One the band-aid was secured, he brought both hands to his mouth in feigned shock, as if realizing that Tali - the specialist of special girls - was the perfect match for the heart-shaped band-aid.

Tali laid both her hands over her mouth, too. They stared at each other in shock until they erupted in a fit of giggles.

"Okay, T. Time for bed. Or - time to go back to bed. We gotta get up bright and early tomorrow so we can get out of Ima's hair and she can get back to work."

His words struck Ziva oddly. She had known they were true. Tony and Tali couldn't stay. It wasn't safe. They had to leave.

But hearing him say it out loud like that… suddenly the walls seemed to be coming in a little closer. She felt her heart beating in her chest, ticking like a clock, counting down to the moment when Tony would leave. Tali would leave. Her family would be gone.

They could only have tonight. And then - who knew when they'd be reunited again. _If_.

And it had to be that: the brisque, cold, heart-wrenching reality that she might never get another moment like this. Another night with her family. That had to be why she did what she did next.

Tony finished arranging Tali on the couch. She was layered with an extra blanket, now fortified in her spot by three pillows bordering her on each side. With any luck, that'd keep her on the furniture… for a while. Ninjas, even tiny ones, didn't stay anywhere long.

Then he stood up. And Ziva stood beside him. And they looked down at their daughter as she shifted, moved, got more comfortable. And the girl fell asleep. And at the end of all of that, Ziva turned to kiss him.

It took him more than a second to fully process what she was doing, but once he did - oh boy - did he return her enthusiasm ten-fold. He instantly grabbed for her waist. Her hips. Her curls. Anything and everything he thought he could get a good grip on so that the second she pulled back he could keep her there.

But the joke was on him. She wasn't going anywhere.

"Bedroom?" Tony asked, wild and breathless, between two particularly heavy kisses.

"First door on the right," She answered automatically, allowing several more lingering embraces before pulling back just the slightest, "Do you want to talk first?"

"Are you kidding me?" He pulled her back, captured her lips. She laughed against him. It was slightly hysterical. Was this really happening?

"We will talk in the morning," She mumbled against the skin of his neck.

"Deal. For now, we pretend."

And with that he started walking, skillfully guiding them both toward the entrance to the hall, toward the door on the right, toward the bed.

It was hours before she found the strength to pull herself away from his warmth and tiptoe down the hall to check on Tali. In her sleep, the girl had managed to free one leg from the confines of her blankets. And on the knee was a small heart-shaped band-aid.

Ziva moved noiselessly through the room until she reached the front window. She tugged the curtains closed. The lights would be there in the morning. Her family wouldn't.

Tonight, she just wanted to pretend.

**Well, that happened. **

**As you all know, NCIS recently blessed us with the canonical news that Tony and Ziva (with Tali of course) met up in Cairo and had like a proper family moment. **

**So, I mean, how could I not write that!? This is simply my contribution to the wave of wonderful fics coming out on the topic. I hope you all enjoyed it. **

**Disclaimers: don't leave small children sleeping on couches in the living room so you can have sex in the bed. These are fictional characters who I wanted to bang, and I'm their overlord who made sure the kid remained safe. Idk, just don't try this at home, I guess. **

**ALSO: I know the anxiety isn't exactly how it was depicted on the show, but 1) It's pretty hard to take a visual representation of an attack and make it work as a written piece and 2) I found it near impossible to write some else's anxiety. This is how my panic attacks feel a lot of the time, so I just used that as inspiration. I know it's slightly ooc but it's the best I could do. **

**Oh, and sorry if there are typos. Its finals week and I stayed up all night writing this so my mind is pretty shot.**

**Review? Jk you don't have to do that… unless? **

**Actually yeah, please review. Lemme know what you think. **

**Much love,**

**Your dearest darling-est FactofFiction**

**(PS follow my tumblr for drabbles. I've posted a couple on there that haven't been published here. Factoffictionwriter :)))**


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